


Not That Time of Year...Again

by fiftyshadesofgreywarden



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: 2017 MEFFW Secret Santa, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Mass Effect 2, Mild Language, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiftyshadesofgreywarden/pseuds/fiftyshadesofgreywarden
Summary: It's Christmas on the Normandy and Shepard is rebelling against Christmas norms.But then Shepard receives a gift that she didn't suspect.





	Not That Time of Year...Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sirius Ordo (tpdlady306)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tpdlady306/gifts).



> My first year doing a the MEFFW Secret Santa and what a talented author I got assigned! 
> 
> Sirius Ordo, this is for you - I hope this satisfy's the delicious cravings for this ship and I hope you have a rad Christmas and New Year.

The shipboard clock ticked over to o-hundred, the sharp beep breaking Shepard’s dull stare at the pile of data pads that she still had to review and collate. It was one upside to FTL, having enough downtime that one could catch up on the paperwork. It was why she was now staring at the clock at her station instead of resuming her work. With the start of a new day, her attention had been drawn to the date that was just underneath the time; Christmas.

Shepard ran her fingers through unruly curls, wondering if it was late enough for her to go and dismantle the decorations in the CIC. Kelly Chambers had struck when she’d been dirtside running routine gun drills with the flight crew. _Crew morale_ , Shepard had had to remind herself when she’d crossed back through the port airlock and been assaulted by human and asari Christmas icons. But not only that, Kelly had gone one step further with her insult;

Tinsel was fucking everywhere.

Even though Shephard had had to physically hold herself back from abandoning Chambers groundside and flying the Normandy out of the system as fast as she could go, for the majority of the human crew present on SR2 Normandy, the decorations had invoked an unusual amount of cheer. Kelly had even gone so far as to acknowledge asari traditions and littered amongst the pine trees and five pointed stars, were ancient asari ships and wooden bowls strung with something unfamiliar.  When Garrus had seen the ruckus, he’d shrugged and commented that turian’s didn’t have anything like Christmas at all on their spiritual calendar. But Shepard hadn’t missed the twitch of his mandibles which gave Shepard the sneaking suspicion that the Turian was remaining close lipped about the occasion.

The clock had ticked to 0:05. Five minutes of precious downtime staring at the clock when she could be up in the CIC shooting metres of tinsel into space before she inevitably became swallowed back up by the backlog of paperwork that she’d set aside in favour of working the Normandy and her crew in the effort against the Collectors.

The CIC was quiet; it was late enough ship-time that the skeleton crew that operated during the night-cycle were taking a meal break. Her socked feet helped Shepard move quickly as she stood over the galaxy map, fingers picking quickly at the tinsel that was twined around the console. It wasn’t that Shepard was opposed to Christmas, but more the song and dance that accompanied it.

Shepard was more acquainted with a different kind of Christmas: a three week shop lifting spree…if security didn’t spring her. It was simple, the teens had been paired with a youngster and they had hit the busy shopping outlets. It was a simple con that left unsuspecting shoppers with too little credits, but nine times out of ten it always worked. Of course there was always the looming threats the came with failure. It still left a sour taste in Shepard’s mouth at the thought of it all, even after breaking away from the Reds. 

Kelly was giving Shepard a run for her money however and she was regretting not bringing her switchblade with her. If she abandoned her work now, she knew she would be happened upon – in fact EDI was curiously silent so far. As if triggered by her thoughts, the holographic orb that represented EDI popped up in the space beside the galaxy map. “Hey EDI, you don’t happen to have a knife close by do you?” Shepard murmured distractedly as she tugged at the stubborn knot. EDI took a moment to respond, which made Shepard think that the AI actually wasn’t sure.

The AI didn’t have the chance to answer, for Shepard had finally won her battle with the stubborn tinsel knot and now Shepard turned her attention to her next target; the navigator chairs. Kelly had decided that turning them into Santa and his reindeer was a novel idea for the revolving chairs.  
  
Jane Shepard would beg to differ. 

It was almost ironic, she could look a thresher maw in the face and help a teenaged krogan shoot it down, she’d survived Akuze and countless other things… yet, she was nearly undone by fucking Christmas decorations.

If there really was a god out there, he must have been laughing his ass off at her.

 Shepard started with the Santa that adorned Hadley’s chair. There was some irony with Kelly’s choice to make Hadley the designated Santa of the CIC; probably because Hadley was the over-jolly sort who took lead on all matters navigation, after Joker of course. Joker as Santa…that was a comedy routine that Shepard would do anything to see, for she knew the pilot well enough to know that he was just as keen for a Christmas celebration of any kind as she was.

“Shepard?” An amused voice asked and she looked up from where she sat in Hadley’s chair, still tugging at the red that had been wound around it. Her mouth had opened, fully prepared for a defence when she realized that it was Mr. Krampus himself leaning over the back of the chair, clutching a mug that was probably coffee. If Shepard hadn’t gotten used to Joker’s odd hours, she probably would have commanded the pilot back to bed, but in one of those rare moments that were becoming more and more frequent, the pilot had told her about his difficulty sleeping coupled with the fact that the other crew were getting a bit too rowdy in the crew quarters.

“I’m being a hero and rescuing the Normandy from Christmas,”   Shepard tossed a wayward Santa hat in Joker’s general direction over her shoulder.  “What’s the plan? We’ll bring down the Illusive Man and the rest of Cerberus and then fly off and save the day?” Joker was actually joking; Jane could hear the humour in his voice. With a frown, she turned in the seat so she could look at the pilot dead in the eye; “well that was the plan, isn’t it? It’s not like the Illusive fuck is gonna take care of himself?”

Joker laughed then and Shepard fell into step beside him, “The great Jane Shepard, Grinch of humanity.” What Jane wasn’t expecting was the Christmas decorations hanging about EDI’s terminal that accompanied the pilot’s station. “I managed to make the mute button stick for a while,” Joker informed Shepard smugly when he saw her pointed look in EDI’s direction and despite the tinsel hell that they had just left behind, the bedazzled station where the holo of EDI appeared was oddly fitting against the stark ship décor.

Having Joker around when she commanded a boat full of pro-humanity supporters didn’t trust each other had proven to be a breath of fresh air and a person that she knew had her back. The added bonus of being her pilot was just a blessing in disguise. Sleepless nights had driven her to the helm in the past, when it was Joker on shift, the two would pass the night cycle until either sleep claimed Shepard in the empty co-pilot’s chair or the day cycle crept up onto them. The co-pilot chair was comfortable, surprisingly and Shepard curled up easily there.

“You know that Chambers is persistent right? You took her decorations down, she’ll exact her revenge with the Easter Bunny” Joker told her as he busied himself with readouts on his terminal. Shepard shrugged and stared out of the starboard side window. At FTL, the stars were nothing but bright, brief lines amongst the inky black of space and despite everything; the speed was oddly reassuring for Shepard.

“If she does somehow gonna get enough chocolate for everyone it might be worthwhile refusing to talk about my feelings about Christmas” Joker gave her a double take that earned a smirk in response. “You mean you actually let her psychoanalyse all your bullshit?” Shepard couldn’t help the snort at Joker’s question; “well yeah, ever wondered why she keeps bugging you, but not me? Keep the shrinks entertained and they’ll leave you alone.”

Idle chatter then turned back onto the topic of Christmas. Shepard divulged a few of the more entertaining Christmas theft stories that she had – ones that Joker was surprised to find that he hadn’t heard. From there it turned to human Christmas songs; which ones should stay dead and the others that would be timeless, no matter how they persistently stayed stuck in your head.

“You know that old one, Santa Baby, I’d hear it in the shops and wonder if someone somewhere was giving Santa a lap dance”

Joker snorted; “leave it to the big fat guy who always gets the hot women.” There was something almost vulnerable about his flippancy and it made Jane sit up in her seat. She’d been dancing around her attraction for the pilot for months now, perhaps even longer – Jane didn’t know. A recklessness that Jane could only compare to the adrenaline rush on a battlefield took over. What she was thinking was a big no-no; making moves on her pilot was taking that line that they crossed with witty banter and catapulting it at least two systems over.

She’d deal with this gross breach of unprofessionalism later because right now, the more important item on Jane Shepard’s agenda was figuring out how to get herself into Joker’s lap with a terminal in the way. One split second decision and Jane planted herself on the terminal – a much easier way to get Joker’s attention than cramming herself into the snug pilot’s chair. 

“A point you wanted to make, Shepard?” Joker asked, relaxed as if Shepard sitting across his terminal was an everyday normal occurrence. Jane leaned forward, her face level with Joker’s – though the brim of his cap cast some shadow over his bearded face. Her hands landed on his knees, smoothing up the Cerberus issue pants until she stopped at his thighs.

“Pretty sure the pilot saves the day and gets the girl in the process, Jeff…if he wants her that is.” The last part came out as a near- whisper. They weren’t joking around anymore, the conversation had changed and with it, came the crippling doubt that Jane Shepard hated as she waited for an answer.  But when Joker hadn’t made any indication, Jane decided she’d abused rank enough for one night. Tomorrow, she would formally apologise and then put this all night behind her, because that was what she did best. So Jane reluctantly pulled her hands away and went to move when a firm hand enveloped around her wrist.

“Command- Shepard – no Jane, wait – wait a second.” A hint of frustration was in Joker’s voice and then she was pulled back forward, whiskers tickling her chin and then lips met hers. “This pilot isn’t used to saving the day and getting the girl,” Joker murmured against Shepard’s lips. Jane smiled then, shifting forward off the terminal and into the pilot’s lap. Their lips met again, Joker’s arm wrapping around Jane’s slight waist pressing her closer to him, tongues exploring the other’s mouth, Jane’s fingers tickling along Joker’s jaw line until they broke apart to just stare at each other, a gleeful grin spreading on Shepard’s face.

“So, Mr. Moreau have I been a good girl?” She teased, walking her fingers down to tap out a beat on his strong chest. His hand enclosed over hers and their lips met again, insistent and heated and oh, how Shepard could do this all night and then some. Joker trailed light kisses down her neck, the coarse hairs of his beard leaving a tingling trail.

“A lap dance would definitely put you on the good girl list,” Shepard couldn’t help the soft snort of laughter. She slid closer, her hands moving to Joker’s to slide up her side to help her remove her sweater. It got tossed out of the way, landing amongst the pile of decorations that was now EDI. Joker’s hands smoothed over her now bare shoulders and moved down, tracing the slight curve of Shepard’s breasts, making her bite her lip before coming to a stop on her hips. Increased sensitivity was something new to Jane, Chakwas had theorised that it was the regeneration of her skin. In a suite of armour, there was no issue. But to have someone else’s hands on her, specifically Joker’s was something else altogether.

When Joker wasn’t smoothing his fingers over what skin the tank top offered, his lips were there instead. Shepard had her own exploration, testing the limit that Joker’s body could handle. Their hips moved together, arms wrapped around each other as the kissed fervently.

Reality slammed into them when the ship clock signalled the beginning of the day cycle. Jane’s lips were swollen from kisses; her skin still tingled from Joker’s touch. Glancing back out at the CIC - Shepard hadn't put as big of a dent into the tinsel explosion as she thought she had - Shepard fixed Joker with a mischievous grin; “perhaps I’ll let Chambers leave the rest of the decorations up?” she was on her way out when Joker stopped her, managing to hit her thigh by groping his hand behind his chair.

"Merry Christmas, Shepard."

"Merry Christmas, Joker."  


End file.
